Mistletoe Season by Michelle Major

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

GABE’SHEARTMELTEDfor the kid, and he decided in that moment, no matter what it took or how hard he had to work to convince Angi to let him help, he’d do it. At least to get Andrew through this rough patch. There had been so many times Gabe could have used someone to guide him. His grandma had done her best, but he’d only come to Magnolia for the summers. School years had often felt like a field of land mines with one wrong step sending his world into chaos.

“You were about to tell me why this activity is such a big deal.”

“The scouts in my troop need hours to get the community service badge each year. Everybody goes to the forest thing because it’s the best way to get them. We do trail cleanup and cut down Christmas trees to donate to families who don’t got money to buy ’em.”

“Can’t you just do something else? Volunteer at Furever Friends scooping poop or feeding kittens or something?”

“I guess,” Andrew said after a long pause. “But the woods are the most fun. We have lunch at a cool cabin with a big moose head on the wall, and we get to use axes.”

“Very smart on the part of your troop leaders, by the way. Sending a bunch of boys into the woods with sharp tools. Wait until you read Lord of the Flies in school and you’ll understand what I’m talking about.”

“We also get extra points toward awards at the end of the troop year,” Andrew explained. “Each boy gets credit for his hours and his dad’s. My grandpa used to go with me, although he usually just brought lunch and didn’t do much chopping. That counted though, and it was fun. And now I can’t go because I don’t have anybody.”

Cue the violins, Gabe thought, but he understood Andrew’s dilemma. Gabe might never have known his father or been rejected outright, but he remembered how it had felt when other kids had dads and he didn’t. At school functions or summer baseball games or generally hanging out.

As a kid, Gabe had sometimes daydreamed about his dad showing up out of the blue on one of his birthdays with two broken-in baseball mitts. He’d hand one to Gabe and invite him to a neighborhood park to toss ball.

Other kids talked about trips to Disney World and the Grand Canyon. Gabe had just wanted to toss ball.

“Do you have a baseball mitt?” he asked Andrew.

The boy blinked and then frowned, clearly trying to figure out the abrupt change of subject. “No,” he said after a moment. “I play soccer, but I’m kind of bad at that, too.”

The door to the shop opened with a jingle from the bells overhead. Angi entered, her face a mix of frustration and acceptance. “I thought I’d find you here,” she said to her son, flicking an exasperated glance at Gabe. “We talked about leaving the restaurant without telling me.”

“Drew and I were just discussing the scout holiday hike or whatever they call it,” Gabe said, willing her to understand the implications for her son.

“It’s this weekend,” she said with a nod. “There’s an event at the inn, but I told Emma I can’t be there because I’ll be collecting pine cones.”

“We don’t collect pine cones.” Andrew looked understandably horrified. “And you can’t come with me, Mom. It’s a father-and-son thing.”

She scoffed, redoing the low ponytail that held back her dark hair. Gabe was momentarily distracted by her beauty. She wore the usual restaurant uniform of a white blouse and fitted black skirt, which to his mind was sexier than frilly lingerie. As she tipped up her chin to run her fingers through her hair, his gaze caught on the tiny beauty mark on the side of her throat. She had a smattering of similar spots across her body, and he’d spent a satisfying hour the other night cataloging as many as he could find.

If Angi truly belonged to him, he’d go to her now and brush his lips across her neck. A quick kiss, but one that would remind them both of things to come.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said now as she lowered her arms again. The beauty mark disappeared under the collar of her shirt. “I can tromp through the woods as well as any man. If those troop leaders want to discriminate on the basis of sex, I’ll just have to channel my inner Ruth Bader Ginsberg and—”

“No, Mom.” Andrew hopped off the chair with fisted hands. “No. I don’t even know who your Ruth friend is, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t go. And I can’t go. Because I don’t have—”

“I could take you,” Gabe said before the boy could finish his rant. Angi was sensitive to her status as a single mom, and a glance at her suddenly pale face suggested she realized now why this mattered so much to her son.

Her dark eyes met his, and the pain in their depths pierced his heart in the same way Andrew’s upset had minutes earlier. He gave a subtle nod and focused his attention on Andrew. “I know I’m probably a poor substitute for your grandfather. The troop will get no lunch from me, but Maybelle is looking for extra hours. She’s saving up to buy wireless headphones for her boyfriend this Christmas. It won’t be a problem for me to take off a whole day.”

Although Andrew’s chest still rose and fell with ragged breaths, he no longer looked like he was about to burst into tears. A little victory but a good start.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he told the boy. “I agree with your mom. Troop members should be able to bring whoever they want on this little outing. But if they’re so insistent on participants being of the variety who stand up when we use the facilities, I fit that bill.”

“I guess that would be okay,” Andrew said after a moment, clearly contemplating the reaction of his friends to showing up with Gabe. “Last year, Brett’s dad was out of town so his older brother came. He spent most of the day on his phone, but Brett still got credit for his hours.”

“I’m not going to be on my phone,” Gabe promised the boy.

“You don’t have to do that,” Angi said, her voice subdued. “It’s a ridiculous tradition, and time that it changed. I can—”

“Mom, please no.” Andrew wrapped his arms around her middle, gazing up into his mother’s face with pleading eyes. “Gabe can go. He said he doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Gabe echoed.

Andrew gave Angi a fierce hug. “Please, Mom.”

Well played, kid, Gabe thought.

“Fine,” she murmured, stroking a hand through her son’s thick mop of hair. “But I’m going to volunteer to provide lunch, just like Papa used to do. I’m sure the troop won’t mind a mom bringing food to the event.”

Andrew nodded. “Sure. Maybe I’ll even get extra credit for that. Thanks, Mom.” He turned and looked at Gabe. “Thanks.”

“Go do your homework,” Gabe told him with a nod. “And remember that you have to tell your mom that you’re leaving the restaurant before you do.”

Andrew grabbed two big pieces of bear claw from the plate on the counter and then hurried out the door like he was worried Angi might change her mind.

“It’s not right,” she said when they were alone again. “He shouldn’t be made to feel bad because his father isn’t a part of his life.”

Gabe thought about whether to tell her that Andrew had reached out to the piece of trash who shared his DNA and decided against it for now. She looked fragile and fatigued, and he figured he’d wait to drop that little bomb.

“I’ve been there.” He reached for her, tugging her closer. “He’ll be fine eventually. It’s crap that whoever is running this troop still plays into those stereotypes, but you can find another time to fight that battle. Once Andrew gets his bonus hours for the tree we’re going to chop down.”

She rested her forehead against his chest, and he was grateful for her warmth and to have her fresh scent surrounding him once again. “It’s my fault. I was the one who made him join scouts and the soccer team and almost every activity he’s been a part of. I just didn’t want him to be left out, but now it looks like I’ve added to his issues instead of making them better.”

“You’re a wonderful mom,” he reminded her. He cupped her face in his hands and tipped up her chin. “You’re also under the mistletoe.” He raised his eyes to the strand of berries hanging above them.

“We don’t have an audience,” she said with an arched brow.

“I think this week proved that we’re better off without one,” he answered, and kissed her.

ANGIRUSHEDINTOIl Rigatone on Saturday just after noon and headed to a booth in the corner, loading her arms with dirty plates and glassware before she’d even deposited her purse in the back or taken off her jacket.

The restaurant was at capacity, with groups waiting on the benches in front of the hostess stand. Dom had called and left several messages for her asking for help because they were down a waitress with the flu and two of the busboys hadn’t shown up for their shift.

Unfortunately, Angi had been busy feeding a high-maintenance bride and twenty-five of her closest friends and family when the SOS calls had come in. It hadn’t been until a break in the action at the inn that she’d realized Dom needed her.

In fact, the only reason she’d checked her phone was to make sure she hadn’t missed a call from Gabe. He’d picked up Andrew early that morning for the scout adventure in the national forest about an hour west of town. She’d sent enough food for the entire troop and had no reason to believe things wouldn’t go well for her son and his stand-in grown-up, but she worried just the same. It’s what mothers did best, she sometimes thought, even when there was no cause for concern.

Would Gabe get along with the actual dads on the day trip? Would he and Andrew make a good team as they worked on trail maintenance and tree cutting? What was going to happen to her son’s relationship to the surly and surprisingly sweet flower shop owner when their fake romance ended along with the holidays? For that matter, what was Angi going to do?

Whether better or worse, those questions would have to wait for another time. She didn’t have a second to contemplate the state of her life, which might be a blessing in disguise.

As she turned from the booth, Angi’s breath caught in her throat as she realized her mother stood a few feet away, glaring at her.

Her body went slack with guilt for a split second, long enough that the plates and glasses she held clattered to the tile floor. Customers from nearby tables gasped at the noise, then politely looked away as she quickly bent to retrieve the broken dishes.

When she straightened, her mother had moved closer, a wet rag and bottle of cleaning solution in her hands.

“What are you doing here, Ma?” she asked as she started to move past. “I thought you had a Zumba class at Josie’s this afternoon.”

“Dominic called me when things got out of hand and he couldn’t reach you.”

Angi paused, inwardly cringing. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Save it,” Bianca said, her mouth pulled into a tight frown. “We’ll have time to talk when the restaurant clears after lunch. Right now, I’m focused on keeping my customers happy.”

Angi knew what that emphasis on the possessive pronoun meant. It was no accident that her mother had used “my” instead of the “our” that had become standard.

She also didn’t argue because her mom was right.

A quick glance around the restaurant showed a cluster of tables unbused and several patrons with empty water glasses. Angi wasted no time in depositing the dishes in the back and then taking care of business up front.

She left her mother to seating people or talking with customers who were waiting for tables. Angi refilled drinks and water glasses. She brought complimentary baskets of bread to each of the tables along with personal recommendations from the menu, pausing to talk with each group.

Lana gave her arm a grateful squeeze as she brought a family of six their food, and it was then Angi noticed that a number of the items being served were specials she’d put on the menu over the past few weeks. Alarm thundered through her as she glanced over her shoulder at her mother. Bianca had already lectured her about switching up her father’s recipes, so Angi knew her mother would be upset if she realized many of the orders included the new dishes.

During her next trip to the kitchen, Angi observed the line cooks preparing her signature menu items. She caught Dom’s eye and gestured to the food, then shot him a questioning glance, which was answered by only a wink and smile.

Not good enough. “What’s going on?” she asked in a frantic whisper, coming to stand close at his side. There was no need for the staff to witness her panic attack.

He picked up a single sheet of paper and handed it to her. “I put these in each of the menus. With all of the weekend visitors in town for the festival, today was bound to be busy. It seemed like a perfect time to give the customers options from our new and improved menu selection.”

“Not improved,” she insisted. “Dad’s recipes are completely fine.”

“And ordinary,” Dom added. “You know it, Ang. Why else would you experiment with these new items?”

Her heart constricted as she studied the specials list. When her father and mother ran the back and front of the restaurant, there had been no need for Angi to put her culinary creativity on display. That hadn’t stopped her from reimagining some of the more staid options and thinking about new twists on Italian classics.

Since her mother’s heart attack, Angi had slid a menu item in here or there just to please herself. She loved trying new things with regular ingredients. By and large, customers had appreciated her attempts to reinvigorate the offerings, but she knew her mom wouldn’t.

“Has Mom noticed?”

Dom frowned. “I don’t think so. We were slammed by the time she got here, so she’s been occupied with waiting on customers.”

“She can’t know what I’ve done.”

“Angela, you’re saving the business she’s dedicated most of her adult life to building.”

“The restaurant was fine,” she lied.

“Your father was my best friend. I know that’s not true.”

Angi blinked, unsure how to respond, not knowing what to do next. The adrenaline that had propelled her through the morning seemed to drain away in an instant.

From getting Andrew ready for the day with the scout troop to the bridal shower to the lunch crowd frenzy, she’d hurtled through the day on autopilot. Now she couldn’t move forward. She couldn’t seem to move at all. Her limbs felt heavy with fatigue. How was she supposed to deal with all of the different people relying on her? Needing different things from her.

Expecting more than she could give.

“I’m glad customers like my food.”

“They do.”

“Why was your father’s food not good enough?”

Angi whirled at the sound of her mother’s voice.

“Mom, that’s not what this is about.”

“He put his heart and soul into this restaurant. Il Rigatone was his life. Our life. We made our home in this town. Raised you and your brothers here. Now you want to change everything?”

“Mom, please—”

Bianca’s hand cut through the air like a knife blade.

“You disrespect me and your father’s memory. His legacy.”

Angi could feel the eyes of every employee in the kitchen watching the scene unfold. She’d spent so much time taking care of her mother and her mom’s feelings. Giving up her apartment and her freedom in order to make sure her mom was taken care of.

“Can we talk somewhere else, Mom?”

Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps we could take a short field trip to the Wildflower Inn since that’s where you’re still spending so much of your time.”

“I... You can’t... I don’t...”

“You think I haven’t known?” Her mother gave a sharp shake of her head. “I see the shadows under your eyes and watch you downing coffee and then diet soda like it’s your lifeline.”

“Mom, I’m sorry.” Angi looked between her mother and Dominic. He gave her a sympathetic nod.

“You’re sorry,” Bianca repeated, her voice reed thin. “But you’re lying to me. You’re lying to all of us.”

Heat infused Angi’s cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she repeated, and tried to blink back the tears that flooded her eyes.

Dominic cleared his throat. “We still have more customers to serve.” He leveled a pointed glance at Bianca. “People who are happy with the current offerings on the menu and the specials I chose to serve.”

“Fine,” Bianca said with a dismissive shrug. “I guess I’m not needed, then.”

“Of course you are,” Angi told her mother. But as she reached for her mom, Bianca pulled away, sending a nail into the coffin that encased Angi’s heart. She’d done so much to try to not hurt her mom and had ended up doing it anyway.

The thought broke her heart.

Her mother offered a sincere smile to the employees still watching their interplay. “Thank you for all you do. We appreciate you and your dedication to Il Rigatone. To my husband’s dream. My dream.”

Angi’s phone began to ring in her back pocket, effectively ruining the sensitive moment between her mother and the staff. With a murmur of apology, Angi pulled it out and immediately accepted the call.

“Brad, what’s wrong?” She’d put in the number of the scout leader in case of emergencies. “Is Andrew okay?”

“What happened to Andrew?” her mother demanded, reaching for Angi’s arm.

The kitchen had gone momentarily silent as everyone seemed to wait for her to speak. She listened to Brad for a few moments and then gave a thumbs-up to her and the staff members. “Andrew is fine,” she whispered, cupping her hand over the phone’s speaker. But, as the dad on the other end of the line continued to speak, her heart plummeted.

“Thank you for the call,” she told Brad, walking to the far side of the kitchen. “And for bringing Andrew back. My mother is at the restaurant if you could drop him off here?”

She disconnected and clutched the phone to her chest as tears clogged her throat.

“What’s going on?” Bianca’s voice had softened slightly. “I thought Gabe had taken Andrew to his activity today. Why is another father giving him a ride home?”

Angi turned to her mother. “Gabe’s grandma died this morning. The nursing home was just able to reach him now.”

The tears she’d tried to hold back slid down her cheeks as she thought of how Gabe must feel. He was alone, and all she could think of was how soon she could get to him.